A leap out of the closet

Does identifying with a word helps me to be unafraid of the lifestyle changes I make? What do I miss in the feeling of acceptance I got from people, before I came out of the closet………………..of creative thought?

Do I do my best to honor and pursue respect from intelligent people with healthy morals in a constructive way, when I get overwhelmed by judgements and accusations of dis-ease? Is this what the evolution of how we think looks like? Have “odd people” done this for thousands of years? Is our over population on this planet the reason it’s so stigmatized?

Am I seemingly a stranger to the way you live your life? Does it appear as though I’m breaking some law, but in reality I’ve read about the monsters in the attics too, and as I am not one, it gives me compassion for your suspicion, and joy when you put a question mark on your projections towards me?

If you want me to admit to some form of degenerative logic, and expect me to think I need therapy, does it depend on how you treat me as a gypsy, artist, social activist, humanist, and maintenance man?

Are the little boxes of western medicines psychological diagnostics too small to fully categorize mental health? Does everyone who’s ever watched horror, read thrillers, witnessed violent death, and participated in slaughtering an animal, have PTSD? Do we live in a bi-polar universe?

Is my study of this concept the reason why people who live in their cozy little homes free from radical lifestyle change, with seemingly safe circumstances in their day to day existence, are intimidated by me? Does this seem illogical to you?

Being a student teacher of the mental health that is found in craziness isn’t easy, and sucks as it’s lonely around people who are rigid in perceptions, so is this the reason I hang out with people who love synonyms more than definitions?

Is this a better study of belief, since I don’t have a Doctoral Certification? Does my lack of a “superior” title enhance my freedom to express myself in humble ways, as my ideas get to stand alone and be questioned objectively? Maybe this is another example of why writers take on pseudonyms, like a sculptor who won’t sell himself, expecting his art to earn respect by itself?

Thank you WordPress, for giving me a place to write my journals and connect with people like me, who express themselves freely in the pursuit of balancing cultural norms with healthy creative thought. If the whole of the internet stopped working, I would feel content as a teacher with this post alone, finding satisfaction in the idea that attitudes and ideas are contagious.

While I search for a way to effectively pursue the mission of changing the way people think about insanity in the pursuit of teaching imaginative thought, it is my pleasure to use this canvas. I have been encouraged, constructively criticized, and minimally dissuaded from expressing myself how I want to. While other canvases on Social Media have hurt me due to personal attachments by others for who I once was, on this journey of hope for wisdom, the faith of this community has brought me contentment.

Have I properly broken the rules of thought here? I hope so. It has been a pleasure attempting to. That is the best true fact I could share today, so be well, and thanks for reading. 🙂


Are these the curriculum titles and descriptions of the American Dream come true?

They were for my grandfather. He kicked ass for the Navy as an engineer, raised the flag and swam a mile a day, grew up next door to his wife, lived in the first suburb of America, and thought like I do. In his heyday the other engineers would get stumped doing their best to solve a problem, come up with nothing, and go looking for Louie.

He was great, and I wish he was still around to read this, as he’d get a kick out of me following in his footsteps and designing a new dream for myself right next to his.

When people ask me what my favorite color is, it’s always been hard to answer. How about you? Maybe it’s my predisposition for goal setting, or the list making mayhem in my mind’s eyes. I don’t know, and it’s really good to live right there.

Visualizing what I would be, what I cared about, and who I wished to become, I wrote a list. Since that was twenty years ago, and I’m beginning to get bored with the recognition that I’ve accomplished it satisfactorily, I want to write a new one. Here it is as the titles of a new elementary school curriculum for myself, or if you edit that thought how I like to…..maybe it’s an element cool curriculum for the whole flipping world?

“creativity[kree-ey-tiv-i-tee, kree-uh-]

artistry cleverness genius imagination imaginativeness ingenuity inspiration inventiveness originality resourcefulness talent vision great skill in creative endeavors ability accomplishment artfulness brilliance craftship finesse flair mastery proficiency style taste touch virtuosity workmanship fantasy dream Atlantis Utopia air castle apparition appearance bubble chimera conceiving daydream delusion envisioning externalizing fabrication fairyland fancy fancying fantasia figment flight flight of imagination fool’s paradise hallucination head trip illusion imagining invention mind trip mirage nightmare objectifying originality rainbow reverie trip vagary gift of high intellect Einstein ability acumen acuteness adept aptitude aptness astuteness bent brain brilliance capability capacity discernment endowment expert faculty flair grasp head inclination knack mature percipience perspicacity power precocity prodigy propensity prowess reach sagacity super ability talent turn understanding virtuoso wisdom power to create in one’s mind art awareness cognition conception creation creative thought enterprise fabrication fantasy flight of fancy idea ideality image imagery insight inventiveness mental agility notion perceptibility realization resourcefulness sally supposition thought thoughtfulness unreality verve visualization wit wittiness cleverness adroitness astuteness brains brightness cunning dexterity flair gumption shrewdness skill smartness idea stimulus afflatus animus approach arousal awakening brain child brainstorm
deep think elevation encouragement enthusiasm exaltation flash hunch illumination impulse incentive in flatus influence motivation motive muse notion revelation rumble spark spur stimulation whim creation creativeness apparatus black box coinage concoction contraption contrivance design development device discovery doodad gadget gimmick gizmo innovation novelty opus original mind a perception attention brain power brains capacity cognizance conception consciousness function head instinct intellect intellectual intellectuality intuition judgment lucidity marbles mentality observation perception percipience power psyche ratiocination reason reasoning regard sanity sense soul soundness spirit thinker understanding wits boldness creative spirit daring freshness individuality ingeniousness innovativeness inventiveness modernity new idea newness nonconformity novelty unconventionalityunorthodoxy”

“Intelligence isn’t defined by a period at the end of the sentence.”

What does it smell like when it’s burnt toast fresh and piping hot, with butter and honey lathered on it?

When will it wake you to stutter step your way, to piss it into a word on the snow……again?

How does it work into play?

Why would a toy be un-fun?

Which pathway of it is overflowing, gushing, spurting, and slamming the rocks, to vibrate the cliffs like a flash flood?

Where will the paint and dust mix, forming indecipherable trails across the field of action?

Who can produce it?

In wonderment at lost arts, curiously overwhelmed, and visualizing.

Using plastic for a sculpture in my mind, a suit of plated CD’s, a mask of syn.

Exquisite form comes from my hands when it’s wood, rock, earth, water, and metal…with a focus.

Synthetics are a place of pondering…..which writer should I gift the wireless Bluetooth keyboard to? I can I get the same thing, with light on a desk as the touch surface. Bigger too.

Sensuality in the process is important! Seeking a healthy flow coming down to touch, and grace within movement. As an axe head at it’s apex forced to accelerate into gravity, cleaves a way through wood I wish to type.

Timing is interesting. The other day, I noticed that my unwritten drafts start in the late evening……while prolific publishing occurs at my favorite times of day!!

I enjoy that my number one encouragement happens from Marina, of an ancient art mecca, and our timing coincides for my posts, to land in her lap fresh pressed.

I appreciate you Steven, moving up the charts of my encouragement stats from afar. Your tenacious and charming, well spoken and enthusiastic!!!!! I love that about you!!!

How can I let go of hesitation, doubt, quantification, and pride, so that art for me is a slide?

Create business cards, to simplify the sharing process down to an art!! I find myself overly verbose in speech these days. I’ve got words for days, and need to remember tact, within the art of conversation.

It’s a wicked pleasure to feel obligated to develop boundaries between my life and art passion, for the sake of health.

Is the virile tiger on your back, or are you riding it? When and how?

Contemplating a writers hat as I’ve left the shoes behind and praying for a way to close the office door with this thought, as the mobile office is everywhere I go.

Publish buttons are medication patches I punch!


I’m a Publish Button Junkie.  I can’t help it.  I’m addicted. 

What does rehab look like?  A hundred and forty drafts that are wreaking havoc on the navigability of my network.  Most of them are posts that I already hit the button on.  I get to lose the credibility of my comments and likes, almost like a phoenix rising up from the ashes, with comments as ashes.  Seven people liked it the first time through, and now that I got my fix while double dipping the chip again….who knows?

It might be the only ethical way to redeem a premature ejaculation on my wall.  That’s what one of my best friends calls it.  “Early awesome”.  If you think it sucks and are mean to me about it, I don’t want to go through it with you again.

It’s a lesson I’ve apologized for already on my wall.  The power of the edit button to change a post others have liked gives me a uncomfortable accountability feeling.  Should I write them all and let them know it’s changed now?  Do they really like it today?  Maybe I should just take all the likes off? 

Viruses are similar.  I call them ITD’s, or Internet Transmitted Diseases.  Attitudes are contagious, and I hope this one goes viral.  We are Journalists seeking certification of approval from our peers.  I don’t want to mess that up by being naughty with my uncontrollable habit of publishing an article before it’s good enough for my future self. 

Like the comments that become articles mid swing, some of my articles could be book seeds.  That sentence alone makes me want to punch the button so I don’t have to start another book.        

Ideas are my bane.  I feel think, and then a list forms as I choose out of need to create…to spill it out onto the page of life.  Grammar, punctuation, and spelling need to get out of the way, as I’ll address them later with more practice and talent.  I gotta touch that button, push that share, and like that post….how about you?  Does it thrill you to hit the like buttons, on your own posts?  I wish they said love.  Like is an understatement for those of us that are enthusiastic about art. 

As an Artist Builder, one of my favorite things to do is encourage other people to find the joy in the world of writing about their businesses, artistic pursuits, or passions.  Showing them my $50. solar keyboard, the blue button that says the historically dreaded P word on it, and using my phone to modify a draft in front of them into a public display of art…..satisfies my hunger. 

Find an artist and try it for yourself.  Give them the Wikipedia definition of social media, and watch the look of possibility breed on their face. The feeling feeds my passion for this canvas and gives me serenity that I haven’t just consumed the drug in private, as a closet drinker would. 

As one of the best substances I’ve found on the market, it’s the joy found in sharing the love to make. Theoretically its something that separates us from the rest of the animals.  Humanity makes a plethora of shit, and some of it is frigging rad!!!!  The act of sharing ways to do that is teaching, and learning how to do that is my life, while blogging is one of the canvases.

My number one encouragement from the start of this blogging odyssey into the web, Marina, commented about “tabula rasa”.  I think that was the word KM (this is editorial speak for check your truth after your done saving the draft….or hitting the share button).  Maybe I should just say KM is an apology for needing to keep making, and not wanting to stop for the trivial matter of checking fact.  The proof is I love this platform, and “tabula rasa” means clean slate…in Greek.

This won’t be a clean slate once it’s saved.  Should I save it as a draft?  Is it good enough for the audience of the world?  I think so.  I’ve poured my heart into it.  That’s good enough justification for me.  As a true fact from my soul, it’s got a clean intention, I believe the reader will enjoy it, and I’m going to hit that button.  I can’t help it, so I’m going to ride the high out till I’m hungry again…as it wears off…when I give it away, and dies when I keep it.

This post was started from an encouraging attitude towards writing like sketching.  Out of the need to feel like my writing was good enough, I drafted a bunch of my blog posts in the interest of fixing the funk, and that was a mistake…sort of. Now my blog has link routing issues and missing menu content. The drafts are waiting in the wings like hibernating bears, stomachs growling in anticipation of waking up.

If I could see my blog network as a tree…that I planted from a nut…or maybe a molly bolt (because it’s a nut to fasten something in a hollow wall spot, that has wings, springs, and bisexual love threads), and it has become a full fledged oak, with the acorns of articles on the ground and in the branches, some of them perfect right from birth, while others are lying half covered from last year, eaten by worms, needing to be crushed into dirt, or composted like this into a rich flavor.

If all my comments could be as this one was, a nut in the air, flying from a squirrel that is making love to another, with word play across the trunks…… I valued the balance I felt from the comments, as the efforts were matched! The article that inspired me covers a primary goal of my life, something I’m studying with passion here, and it brought me joy, as it fit nicely into my pursuit of TATWIP’s mission!!!!

Is it an appetite like the sculptors who work behind closed doors and curtains?  Am I just too much of an entertainer at heart, and don’t give a hoot if I make a fool of myself in front of the people I’m trying to share fun with?  Either way, I love that button.  I smack it and feel the satisfaction of an art fix flood into my veins, slam my heart, and bounce around my brain.  Thank you WordPress Administrators, it’s some high grade dope your kicking out!    

Mediums devour me.  I get lost in art as the words, songs, drawings, and talking consume me.  Its always been this way.  I’ve got few pieces of art that will ever satisfy my sense of completion, so why not hit the button?  How many full sketch books do I have with drawings that are not good enough?  How many times have I sat down with one of them, to fill the blank corners of a page from when I was ten, putting new art next to old art on a cluttered canvas?  It’s the only thing I know.  This blog started out as “benjaminsreclaimedart” for a reason.  It was the only thing that I could think of in the moment that fit, and was available in the domain. 

Now it’s tatwip, and changing into a single medium artist hurts.  I don’t want to give up drawing, it’s just that I’m running out of steam by the end of the day.  Singing while writing is something I need to work on.  I miss it, so I’ll end this foray into typing with a punch of the medicated patches.  I hope you love it as much as I do, thanks for tasting it with your eyes.       20140305-134509.jpg